Midnight Sun
by SydnieWren
Summary: Kakashi struggles to distinguish reality from illusion after his encounter with Itachi. KakaIru, IruKaka. Graphic. Dark.
1. Midnight Sun

**Hi all! I hope everyone is having a good start to the new year. This fic is going to be multichapter, though I'm not sure how many yet. It's a little on the dark side, and I hope the reality-v.s.-illusion sequences aren't too difficult to make sense out of. It takes place after the confrontation between Itachi and Kakashi in episode 82 of the anime, or chapter 142 of the manga. It can also be read as a sequel to 'November', though it doesn't have to be. **_  
_

**Disclaimer: don't own.  
**

**Warnings: torture, graphic violence, suggested noncon.  
**

* * *

_Keep drinking, _Itachi said, though his hand was cold and intractable on the back of his neck, leaving no room for another interpretation. He forced Kakashi's mouth and nose beneath the calm surface of the water.

_More. _

Kakashi managed to hold his breath for a few excruciating moments, sealing his lips until his chest burned and his mind buzzed with dizzying, airless confusion. His jaw spasmed on its own accord and saltwater flooded his mouth, forcing the thin cloth of his mask against his teeth.

_I want you to swallow._

Itachi's voice was smooth and even, having dropped an octave since it last sounded in Konohagakure. The hoop of his ring dug into the nape of Kakashi's neck as he shoved his face further into the brackish water, leaning close to speaks into his ear.

_Take it inside of you._

Kakashi struggled to drink against the seizing muscles of his throat, choking on gulps of brine. Nausea welled up in his stomach, and he began to tremble with the sensation of drowning in his own sickness.

On some level beneath consciousness he was aware of another figure cloaked in shadow before him, and another to his side, and more, perhaps hundreds, darkening the red horizon.

And this, too, was Itachi.

* * *

Kurenai sagged in the unwieldy plastic seat, her head lolling against the blank wall behind her. She shifted in place, doing her best to right the damp, clinging material of her dress. An elderly woman across the waiting room shot her a pointed glare, and the kunoichi drew her knees together with a slight scowl.

_Manners at a time like this? _She rolled her eyes. _Well, what else do old ladies have to feel superior about?_

The shadows of birds flickered and faded on the scuffed tile of the hospital waiting room floor. It was an uncommonly beautiful day, blue and serene, with the faintest green-scented breeze. Hours ago, Kurenai had looked forward to spending it with Asuma, preferably underneath him…

The entry of a clipboard-bearing nurse recaptured her attention. Kurenai's head snapped up and her focus sharpened on the woman, who squinted once around the room before calling out:

"Yuu-hi?"

She was on her feet at once, striding to the woman's side with preternatural speed.

"Kurenai Yuuhi," she replied, doing her best to catch a furtive glimpse of the clipboard.

"If you'll just step in here," the nurse said gently, shouldering open a set of broad double-doors. Kurenai followed wordlessly, her arms crossed over her chest. The corridor of the emergency ward was cold and blandly pale, raising gooseflesh along her bare shoulder.

For long moments, the nurse scanned the collated charts and records she held, and then finally regarded Kurenai with a soft, soothing smile.

"Hatake-san will recover," she said confidently, and Kurenai breathed a sigh she hadn't intended to contain. "We removed a very small amount of water from his lungs, and stabilized him after the seizure. He's resting now."

"Seizure?"

The nurse gave a sympathetic nod.

"Hatake-san had a tonic-clonic seizure while we were placing the suction catheter, but it was relatively mild."

"Can I see him?"

Kurenai raised an eyebrow briefly at the nurse's canny smile, supposing the slight woman had misinterpreted her relationship with Kakashi. Nonetheless she was glad of the ruse if it meant she would be allowed to visit him.

As she followed the nurse through the winding hospital halls, she glanced nervously from room to room, hoping that her comrade was not so dangerously incapacitated as the other patients of the intensive care unit.

"When will he be able to go home?" she asked.

"As soon as he's conscious, you can take him home," the nurse assured her gently.

"Do you know how long that may take?" Kurenai feared she was pressing matters, but the risk of Itachi pursuing him remained prominent in her mind, and she suspected the Uchiha likely had no idea where Kakashi lived. The hospital, on the other hand, was a sensible estimation of where he would be.

"It could take up to three hours," the nurse replied, "is there some reason he needs to return sooner?"

Kurenai thought quickly. It would not do, she knew, to introduce panic.

"I, ah, can't sleep without him," she explained, feigning her best blush. She was rewarded with a generous, canny smile.

"I'll see what I can do, dear."

Kurenai ducked inside the doorway with a thankful nod, hoping that no one important had overheard her deception.

Kakashi lay prone beneath a thin blanket. A thin, clear tube bore oxygen into his nose, providing Kurenai the opportunity to see his face in full. Machines formed a formidable border around the head of his bed, where they monitored his bodily processes in muted, rhythmic tones.

To her slight surprise, his eye fluttered open upon her approach. He regarded her with bland recognition.

"Kurenai," he rasped, "I didn't know you cared."

Against her better judgment she smiled widely, wrinkling her nose.

"Don't get too excited. You're a little skinny and washed-out for my taste."

"Back at you," he returned in a hoarse monotone.

She tugged a chair up to the edge of the bed and sank into it, letting her knees fall where they pleased. If anyone lacked interest in social propriety, she reasoned wryly, it was Kakashi.

"How are you feeling?"

"Pretty sorry. What's today?"

Kurenai pressed her lips together, determining that the genjutsu had affected him more intensely than she had initially presumed.

"It's the twelfth of April, about two in the afternoon," she paused, letting the date sink in, "the genjutsu Itachi used…that was earlier today."

Kakashi expelled a shaking breath.

She watched as he slowly began to flex his fingers, testing their responsiveness. Finding them able, he slid a hand beneath the sheet, and began to check his midsection for wounds.

_Nothing? _Kakashi's brows knit together in concern. His skin was unblemished, yet he could feel the pain of a number of injuries twisting in his bowels. When he attempted to sit up, Kurenai held his shoulder gently.

"Probably best not to push it," she suggested.

"Aa." His body relaxed in stages, until he was boneless against the thin mattress.

Within the hour, the nurse returned, a stack of paperwork under her arm. She presented it to Kurenai as if she had secured her a favor.

"Discharge papers," she announced brightly, "I noticed you two were talking, so…"

"Thank you," Kurenai replied with a smile, "I'll take it from here."

Kakashi peered at her from his bed, trying to sustain his resolve on the humor of her ruse. Sleep edged at the borders of his consciousness, and he found it hard to resist.

* * *

His outstretched wrists were bound to a horizontal post intersecting the vertical one that supported his body. Already it had become difficult to hold his head up, and each time his shoulders sagged, breathing became nearly impossible.

He sucked a breath through gritted teeth and tossed his head back against the wooden beam to get a better look at Itachi.

There he stood, in the center of a calm black sea, as thin and impassive as he ever had been. Still he struck Kakashi as strangely sexless, his posture androgynous and shy, his features simultaneously gentle and sharp.

_I want you to remember what you did to your colleague,_ he was saying.

Kakashi gasped for air.

_Do you remember? _

The sky swirled, flickered, grew dark and dim; the outlines of wooden panels appeared, and the horizon became four walls. The sea became a flat cedar floor, and Itachi commanded it from its center.

_They said he would forget how to feel pain._

Itachi appeared to him as a younger man, lithe and coltish, clothed in black-and-grey ANBU garb. He pulled his mask from his face and tossed it upward; upon shattering, the shards quivered and transformed, becoming men.

_You watched the door._

Against his back, the post broadened. His feet touched the floor though his limbs were still bound, and for a moment, he could breathe.

_Do you remember? _

The men wore ANBU uniforms as well, and sported the familiar swirled tattoos on their shoulders. Kakashi watched in mute horror as they rose and took on the forms of shinobi he knew, some from the past, others from the present. They huddled like swarming insects around a prone body slumped at Itachi's feet.

Red, glinting eyes fixed his in a cool, even stare.

_They took his mask._

At the instant Itachi spoke, one of the men jerked the porcelain mask from the collapsed man's face. He then leaned to turn the man onto his back, revealing his nudity, and his face.

Kakashi felt cold panic sting his veins. The face was familiar, unmistakable: with wide, bottomless black eyes and a straight, plain nose, it was Tenzou. His lips were torn and his teeth were bloody; as Kakashi looked on, he appeared to be trying to back away, all to no avail.

_They pinned his hands._

A piercing scream echoed in the strange chamber, and Kakashi recognized it as his own. As the ANBU drove kunai into Tenzou's wrists, effectively securing them to the wooden floor, Itachi mirrored the action with his katana. Kakashi could feel the bones of his wrists splitting and splintering, forcing their way through his skin in bloody shards.

_Do you remember? _

* * *

"You'd think he'd be better stocked," Asuma returned from Kakashi's refrigerator empty-handed and despondent.

"Now is no time for a celebratory beverage," Gai declared categorically. He knelt at Kakashi's bedside, watching the rise and fall of the other's chest with intense focus.

Asuma cracked a grin at Kurenai, who glanced away to maintain her composure.

Outside, the sun was sinking on the village skyline, casting the telephone lines and rooftops in dark relief. Gai drew Kakashi's blinds, shielding the bedroom from the most powerful of the burnished golden light.

Kakashi's muscles tensed and twitched as he lay unconscious, though he never uttered a sound. Gai paced nervously around his small bedroom, impervious to all of Asuma's attempts to lighten the mood.

"We can't stay all night," Asuma leaned in the doorway, fingering a pack of cigarettes he had already been commanded not to smoke indoors.

Gai nodded resolutely, clenching his fists at his side.

"I must inform you of a very important fact," he began, turning his face to the planks of sunlight streaming in between the blinds, "I would never share such secrets to be shocking, salacious or slanderous. Under normal circumstances, I would take Kakashi-sensei's personal matters to my grave."

Kurenai perked up immediately, and Asuma's lips split in a crooked smile.

"Go on," he urged, "out with it."

"There is a very important person in Kakashi-sensei's life!" Gai announced with dramatic gusto, turning to regard them immediately.

Kurenai did her best to appear quietly surprised.

"Will you tell this person about Kakashi-sensei's condition?" she asked, eyes wide and incredulous. Asuma silently admired her clever effort to escape additional errands.

"I will," Gai agreed. "I will tell this person to come to Kakashi-sensei's side immediately."

Asuma crossed the room to squeeze Gai's shoulder in support.

"Let us know if you need any more help," he offered with a genuine nod toward Kakashi, "we'll be around."

"I will treat this matter as a most urgent mission," Gai committed, more to himself than to anyone else.

* * *

The knock was not Kakashi's. Iruka knew as much before he ever reached the door.

Still he was surprised to see Gai awaiting his answer through the peephole. He opened up without reservation, lips parted in surprise.

"Gai-sensei," he greeted, "to what do I owe the visit?"

"I wish that I had fresh, fortuitous news, Iruka-sensei," Gai answered quickly, "but at the moment, I do not. I mean to let you know that Kakashi-sensei is recovering, currently, from a traitorous, treacherous, torturous genjutsu wielded by Itachi Uchiha."

It was an enormous amout of information to soak in, and it had not been communicated in the bluntest of terms. Iruka swallowed, and absently lifted his flack jacket from its place just inside the door.

"Is he wounded?" he asked, slipping the jacket over his shoulders.

Gai took a deep, contemplative breath.

"Not physically," he replied, "but I have reason to believe that he has suffered psychologically. His spirit, though…" his eyes slid shut in fervent admiration.

Iruka stepped out and locked his door behind him, for the first time abandoning his radio and lights without any concern for his electricity bill.

"Is he in the hospital, Gai-sensei?" he probed, interrupting the other's meditation on the strength of Kakashi's spirit.

"He is at home," Gai answered.

"Thank you for telling me," Iruka smiled through his concern, finding it difficult to panic in Gai's immediate presence. The jounin returned his gratitude, his lip quivering with unnamed emotion.

"Care for him well, Iruka-sensei," he bid the other with a wave, "see to my recovering rival's rapid recuperation!"

* * *

_That guy, _Iruka thumbed through the keys on his chain as he stood outside Kakashi's door, grateful that the last jounin to leave had temporarily disabled the numerous traps situated there. He found the one Kakashi had given him some months ago, along with a cryptic suggestion of using it in times of emergency.

He opened the door slowly on habit, introducing his arrival as loudly as he could without irritating the neighbors. Kakashi's reflexes, he knew, were especially taut when he was injured, and he felt thoroughly unprepared to dodge shuriken in the pitch darkness.

"Kakashi, it's me," he called, closing and locking the door behind himself, "it's Iruka."

It felt strange using his own name, but he wasn't yet sure of the degree of Kakashi's confusion.

"Kakashi, I'm here," he tried again, listening in the dark kitchen for a response from the bedroom. He flicked on a light as he passed through the doorway, casting the small bedroom in a secondhand glow.

"Iruka?" his voice was weak and rough, but he seemed aware. Iruka approached his bedside tentatively.

"Hey," the mattress dipped as the chuunin sat carefully beside him.

"Yo," Kakashi replied. "How long –" he licked his lips and cleared his throat to ward off a fit of coughing, "how long have you been here?"

"I just got here," Iruka said gently. "Gai let me know what happened today."

"Ah."

He stared blankly at his ceiling, still disoriented by the passage of time. The images Itachi had shown him lingered just below the surface of his thoughts, some of them fading like dreams, others emerging like memories. Kakashi found himself incapable of separating his own jarred recollections from the delusions implanted alongside them.

Iruka slid his hand beneath the other's, gingerly lacing their fingers together.

"Could you eat something?" he tried, furtively eyeing Kakashi's bedspread for bloodstains. Gai's definition of _not wounded _and his tended to differ.

"I don't think so," Kakashi answered. The huge volume of salt water he had consumed still roiled nauseatingly in his stomach.

"Drink something, at least," Iruka had a teacher's knack for sounding plaintive when he was being demanding. Kakashi nodded slowly.

"Water," he said. As he watched Iruka's shadow darken the doorway between the bedroom and kitchen, he realized vaguely that he had never consumed any salt water, that no salt water flowed in Konoha, and that he didn't feel remotely nauseous.

But none of it changed the fact that he _did, _on some level concealed by the recesses of his subconscious, taste brackish water at the back of his mouth.

Iruka returned with a canteen of cool water, wiping away excess at its neck. He handed it to Kakashi, and waited, kneeling, while he drank.

"Good?"

"Better."

He helped the jounin place the canteen on the nightstand, and stood, laying his flak jacket over an empty chair.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, already unfastening the knot of his hitai-ate.

Kakashi moved toward the wall with some effort, making room for Iruka. He watched the chuunin undress from the corner of his eye, focusing upon the familiar: the flat, smooth planes of his stomach, the easy, sloping lines of his hips.

Iruka lifted the bedspread and nestled in close to Kakashi, pressing as much of his skin against the other's as he could fit.

It felt like balm on a wound. Kakashi exhaled deeply and closed his eye. Warmth radiated from Iruka's naked body as though the rich tone of his skin stored it, and his scent was comforting and familiar.

There were routines the chuunin undertook on occasions like this, though Kakashi was typically better able to report on his own condition. Nonetheless, Iruka _always _double-checked, suspicious of underestimation. His hands ghosted over Kakashi's body, starting at his shoulders and flowing down his chest, tracing the ridges of his ribs and the hard planes of his abdomen.

"Is this okay?" he murmured.

Kakashi's breath came labored and heavy, and a subtle tension in his spine seemed to dissolve.

_It's real. This is real._ He held onto the fact desperately.

"Kakashi?" Iruka's hands paused on his waist.

"Yeah," Kakashi breathed, nodding jerkily against his pillow, "keep doing that."

* * *

_I want you to remember._

Itachi punctuated each thrust of his katana with the statement until Kakashi felt faint with pain. His blood had soaked through his flak jacket and presently trickled down his legs in rivulets, originating in the wounds littering his midsection.

The blade slid in again, forcing its way between two of his ribs and twisting, spreading the bones apart.

_I want you to remember._

Kakashi screamed, and Itachi withdrew the blade, wiping the excess blood on the other's cloth mask. A warm, heavy weight settled against his stomach, and he was sure the other had carved his heart from his chest, allowing it to dangle against his body as it spent its last contractions.

* * *

"Kakashi, it's a dream."

Iruka was practiced in the ways of shinobi. He spoke firmly and clearly, without the slightest hint of aggression or fear.

"It's only a dream," he repeated, his hand still on Kakashi's stomach, where he had paused in his sweep for injuries.

When his pulse slowed from its frantic racing and Kakashi could again hear the minute sounds of his apartment over the blood pounding in his ears, he licked his lips and reached over the chuunin to empty the remainder of his canteen.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"About eight," Iruka answered. "You were only asleep for a few minutes, Kakashi."

The jounin drew in deep breaths, struggling to focus on the things that anchored him to reality.

"Stay here, okay?"

Iruka paused for a moment, expecting Kakashi to get up. It was only when the man relaxed slightly that he realized he meant his request in a much more indefinite way.

"I'll stay," he murmured, brushing a few beads of sweat away from Kakashi's temple.

He watched the jounin's profile in the darkness, noting the irregularity of his breathing even as he descended into sleep.

* * *

**More soon! Thanks for reading; please review!**


	2. Eye of the Needle

**Hi all! Here's part two. I'm so happy folks are reading this, and I hope you like the continuation! As always, thanks for the reads, and I love to know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: don't own.  
**

**Warnings: violence, heavy sexual touching.  
**

* * *

At the ANBU briefing they were all without masks. Raidou slung his over his shoulder; Genma's dangled by its strap from the hilt of his sword. Itachi sat cross-legged and disengaged, his shoulders arched up, elbows straight, hands folded in his lap. He nodded vaguely when Sarutobi mentioned the word _captain._

The new recruit stood up straight near the old man. His thighs were slim. His back sloped gracefully to narrow shoulders. Above his glove, the new tattoo shone black and clear in a nest of swollen redness, where a little blood remained.

Sarutobi dismissed them with a grave thanks for their service, and they began to shift, their shadows crossing and splitting. Kakashi watched Itachi as his posture loosened and unfolded; he rose organically to full height, and when their eyes met the boy's were red and swirling.

_You watched the door._

His voice permeated the space and then there was no one else, only them, under the strange light of a red moon. Itachi advanced toward him with that peculiar swinging gait, reaching over his shoulder for his sword.

_Do you remember?_

Itachi swung his sword through the fabric of the universe. Kakashi felt it rend his consciousness, and the gleam on the steel impacted in the back of his mind, sucking away his breath.

* * *

The screeching between his ears was the sound of his own gasping. Kakashi woke with a start to the sensation of sweat trickling between his shoulder blades, and Iruka's hand was on his waist.

"Kakashi," he murmured, sleep-addled. The jounin felt his breath on the nape of his neck.

"What time is it?" he asked, sweeping his hand over his face.

Iruka shifted, propping himself up on an elbow to glance at the nightstand clock. He burrowed down again and answered quietly.

"A little after midnight."

Kakashi had been sure the dream was a memory, and even as he rehearsed the sights and sounds in his mind, its texture felt consistent, equal parts indistinguishable illusion and recollection.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Iruka's offer was entirely neutral. He was still save for the slight movement of his hand on Kakashi's waist, kneading from time to time when the other tensed.

"Not…yet," Kakashi answered slowly.

Sleep, he knew, was of essential importance. Each time the illusions disrupted his awareness, his sharingan reacted upon reflex, awakening even while he slept, and draining him of chakra.

_If I don't sleep, I'll lose it altogether._

Iruka seemed to intuit the same. Though Kakashi could not see him, he could practically hear the gears turning in the chuunin's mind, ever practical, ever resourceful. It was extraordinarily difficult to startle Iruka into inaction; Kakashi attributed his capable handling of all manner of hazards to having lost so much so early in life.

It was calculated strategy, not lust, that settled the tips of Iruka's fingers on the shaft of Kakashi's limp cock. He paused for a moment, his breath flowing over the highest knot of the jounin's spine.

Kakashi straightened his back somewhat, giving the other better access to his sex. He hardened slowly, feeling only the barest of twitches as Iruka circled his cock. When he began to stroke, blood rushed from his extremities, leaving his fingers and toes faintly tingling.

Phantom aches pulsed and writhed in the depths of his body. A muscle twisted, and for a moment he believed fully and fervently that a katana had been buried between his ribs – maybe not that day, but sometime before, in the haze of his past. It occurred to him that Itachi must have jarred the memory from the depths of his mind.

His orgasm built at a glacial pace, waxing and waning, coming close to completion and then shying away. Kakashi pushed a breath out through his teeth, and dropped a hand beneath the blankets to stay Iruka's wrist.

"All the way."

His voice was low and soft and resolute, suited to the rarity of the request. Iruka hesitated for a split second, and then gave Kakashi's cock a final squeeze before drawing his hand away to rummage through the top drawer of the jounin's nightstand.

Kakashi drew his knee up slightly as he waited for Iruka to fit their bodies together again. The chuunin's chest was warm and firm against his back, sealing his skin from the vacancy of his dark apartment.

Iruka ran his fingers along Kakashi's thigh, suggesting his destination. It had been a while; Kakashi could barely recall the last time they had made love like this, though his impression of the event was powerful. He wanted it, then, because the walls of his apartment loomed close and constricting, and because he felt at once exposed and suffocated, raw from the inside out, as though Itachi had reached through his body to touch his mind.

Iruka traced the pad of his finger tentatively over the other's entrance, applying light pressure.

"Relax," he murmured, "breathe."

He had touched Kakashi seconds after the completion of battle before, when the jounin had come to him ahead of all other considerations, medical or professional. Even then, he had been able to feel the slow release of his tension, a steady slackening that began in his shoulders and concluded in his calves. Presently he could sense no sign that Kakashi was anywhere near unwinding.

_In his mind, the threat is still there._

* * *

Dawn came with a knock.

"Leave it," Asuma yawned.

Kurenai let herself ignore the noise for a few blissful minutes before sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

"Kurenai…"

"It might be important," she argued half-heartedly. Her clothes, she suspected, were scattered somewhere in the living room. She tugged on one of Asuma's uniform shirts and lifted her hair from the collar as she headed to the door.

Izumo and Kotetsu regarded one another nervously on the other side of the peephole. Kurenai opened the door languidly, resisting a yawn.

"Morning," she greeted.

"Lady Tsunade asks that you report to her office at once," Izumo announced. He glanced to Kotetsu, who seemed to be scanning a sheet of paper curiously.

"Is…Sarutobi Asuma at this residence, by any chance?" he asked.

Kurenai glanced briefly over her shoulder.

"I'll let him know," she assured them, pointedly ignoring their knowing glances as she closed the door behind her.

Asuma was still sprawled in bed, clinging to the remnants of a good night's sleep. Kurenai appeared with her clothes over her arm.

"The Hokage wants us," she relayed.

Asuma groaned.

"What a pain…"

"I hope it's not bad news," she worried.

Asuma perked up enough to watch her dress.

"Guess we'll know soon enough."

* * *

Cooking was no skill of Iruka's; doing it in utter silence was an even further stretch. He managed to start tea and rice without much ado, but he found nothing of further substance in Kakashi's cupboards.

His stealth went unrewarded. As he turned to pour the tea, Kakashi appeared in the doorway.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Iruka apologized, damning his good intentions. Kakashi waved him off with an appreciative smile.

"Wasn't you," he assured him. He made his way to the small table situated in a corner of the kitchen and sat heavily, leaning on his elbows.

Iruka knew better than to probe, though he cast a few appraising glances over his shoulder. Kakashi gazed at dust motes floating in the sunlight.

"Weird night," he said at length.

"It had its good points," Iruka teased, producing two chipped bowls of rice. Kakashi still felt thoroughly disinterested in food, but he ate dutifully, taking small, grudging bites.

"Think I'll take it easy today."

Iruka nodded.

"I'm working until seven," he replied, leaving his intention to return straight away afterward unstated. "I'll bring food home."

Kakashi watched the chuunin eat and drink, following the motions of his hands and lips.

_This is real, _he told himself.

* * *

Morning illuminated the dewy rooftops in shades of gold and silver outside the grand windows of Tsunade's office. She reclined at her desk, her fingers steepled before her in thought.

"Did he seem aggressive?" she asked, having digested the reports given by the three jounin she had summoned.

"Not at all," Kurenai replied, "just confused. Time got away from him."

Gai gave a solemn nod.

"I think it's best to provide some surveillance until his recovery is a settled question," she decided.

"Surveillance?" Asuma's surprise was evident in his expression.

"Surveillance, supervision, however you want to think of it. Somebody needs to be there."

"Shall we take shifts?" Gai offered.

Tsunade shook her head.

"You three have served well enough for now. I'll assign rounds until we know what we're dealing with."

She dismissed them with her thanks and watched them file out, whispering among themselves.

It was difficult to begrudge their concern. Tsunade sank into her high-backed seat with a heavy sigh, and began to list a few research volumes for her errand boys to fetch from the archives. _Tsukuyomi _was not a technique she was intimately familiar with, a deficit she felt needed swift remedy.

Shizune appeared with the mission roster balanced beneath a tray of tea.

"Thank you," Tsunade muttered, absorbed in her work.

An unusually hefty volume of high-ranking missions had taxed her reserves of capable jounin, and she doubted the use of leaving a chuunin with a potentially unstable Hatake Kakashi.

She resolved to write up a directive immediately.

"Shizune, summon Shiranui Genma, and send Izumo and Kotetsu in."

The slight woman nodded and bowed, excusing herself from the Hokage's presence without a word.

* * *

_Nothing a little elbow grease won't fix._

Genma had not been given a key along with the directive, but he improvised well, plucking the senbon from his lips and sliding it into the lock of Kakashi's door. Luckily, the chain had not been fixed inside.

"Yo?"

The apartment was still and dim, a drastic change from the birdsong and sunshine of the mid-April morning outdoors. Genma noted cups and bowls in the sink, and grinned to himself in solitude.

_Looks like he's not so bad off after all._

He passed into the bedroom, where Kakashi peered up at him blandly from his bed.

"Genma?"

"Hokage's orders," the elder jounin explained, "easy mission, if you ask me."

A chair had been left near the bed, and Genma slumped into it, crossing his ankle over his knee. Kakashi looked him over intently. In the back of his mind he recalled the image of Genma's mask swinging from the hilt of his sword. His brows knit together.

"Don't mind me," Genma invited in his easy drawl.

"They have you guys on rotations, or what?" Kakashi probed.

"Eh?" Genma shrugged. "Maybe. Gai was sweating it pretty hard, so Tsunade set it up this morning."

Kakashi sat up slightly. He could half-recall Iruka saying that Gai had sent _him_ along the night before.

"This morning?" he repeated, turning to face Genma, "who was here last night?"

"Nobody."

The senbon glinted in the sun as it bobbed between his lips.

Kakashi's mind raced.

"Someone was here," he muttered, reaching surreptitiously beneath his pillow for the kunai stowed there.

"Easy, buddy," Genma advised. His posture tensed immediately.

"Are you absolutely sure that no one else was sent here last night?" Kakashi stood, kunai in hand, to retrieve his flak jacket from the foot of his bed. Panic didn't suit him, and in place of fear there was single-minded determination. He slid his jacket on and tucked the kunai into his thigh holster.

"I think you need to relax," Genma insisted. He sprang from the chair, upending it, and clapped a hand on Kakashi's shoulder as he prepared to leave the room.

Kakashi ducked his grip and looped his finger through the handle of his kunai on instinct.

"I can't let you leave," Genma informed him, and though he made no threats, Kakashi noted the shift of his upper arm as he lowered his hand to the small of his back to grasp the hilt of a tanto.

"Careful, Genma," Kakashi warned sharply.

"Look, why don't –" he began, but as he spoke he advanced a step, and Kakashi grabbed him by the collar of his flak jacket, forcing him against the opposite wall. His knuckles whitened in the green fabric.

"What do you know about Tenzou?" he demanded.

"_What_? What the fuck does –"

"You were there," Kakashi cut in, "the night he joined. What happened?"

"I don't have any idea what the fuck you're talking about," Genma growled.

"I know you were there," Kakashi repeated, inches from Genma's face.

"I don't know anything about Tenzou, or when he joined, or whatever the fuck, Kakashi. Whatever happened between him and his team in some ANBU safe house in the woods is his fucking business."

Kakashi glared at him, speechless. It was only then that he noticed the flawless clarity of Genma's skin, unmarked scar or defect, and the fullness of his lips, shapely and pale with apprehension. His eyes widened.

There was no senbon there.

He felt the tip of the needle buried in his shoulder as his consciousness faded.

* * *

Lanterns lit the street from high above, glowing gold and red in anticipation of the upcoming festival. Stalls and carts had already begun to dot the sidewalks, selling shaved ice and skewers of dango.

_I said I'd bring food home, but…_

As he had come to expect, Iruka's shift at the mission control room had run long. And, though he had promised to restock Kakashi's embarrassingly barren cupboards, his concern for the jounin had steadily spiraled into anxiety through the day, leaving him unwilling to waste any more time getting home.

_If he's alright, I'll come back out._

It wasn't the worst proposition: the air was pleasantly warm and fragrant with tree blossoms, and the light from the hanging lanterns cast the crowds below in a dreamy glow. Under better circumstances, Iruka would have happily spent the evening out.

The scent of savory-sweet festival food still lingered in his hair by the time he reached Kakashi's apartment. As he turned down the jounin's hall, he noticed Genma, hands in his pockets, reclining near his door.

"Genma," he greeted, "how's it going?"

The jounin shrugged noncommittally.

"He's been out all day."

Iruka's brows shot up.

"You've been here _all day_?"

"Well…not exactly. I checked in first thing this morning, and he was having some kind of fit. So I administered some of the sedative Tsunade sent over, and checked back in with her. Since then, it's been back and forth."

Iruka's expression grew instantly grave. His lips parted and then closed before he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Some kind of fit?"

Genma gestured vaguely.

"Like a seizure, something like that. He was making some noise…seemed like a nightmare. Anyway, he'll sleep the sleep of the righteous now."

"Thanks, Genma," Iruka said, sliding his key into the lock. He listened to the wavering notes of crickets as Genma waved and strolled down the hallway. Before the man turned the corner, he called out to him: "Let Tsunade-sama know I'm staying the night, okay?"

Genma wolf-whistled and Iruka rolled his eyes, but he took it as confirmation.

Inside, the apartment was still and dark. The bowls and cups from breakfast still sat in the sink, and, in the bedroom, Kakashi's flak jacket was still folded over the foot of his bed.

Iruka steadied himself with a hand on the doorframe and shuffled his sandals off.

"Kakashi, are you awake?" he tried.

A low groan was his answer. Kakashi shifted under his blankets and rolled to his side, hissing as he placed pressure on the injection site. He returned to his back and shifted up on his elbows, raking his fingers through his hair.

"How are you feeling?" Iruka crossed the room to open the window, letting in clean air and a little light.

"Were you here last night?"

Iruka paused.

"Of course I was," he answered slowly, "this morning, too. We had breakfast."

"Today…Genma said…"

Kakashi held his forehead in his hands and breathed with intention. Iruka lowered himself into the chair near the bedside, his heartbeat quickening.

"Genma was here today, but you weren't well. He had to use a sedative."

"Tell me something only you would know," Kakashi's tone was a shade shy of pleading. He ran through the possibilities in his mind: either this person was Iruka and had been with him the night before; or this person was not Iruka, and had been with him the night before; or none of what he had experienced, past or present, had any relationship with reality.

Iruka licked his lips and looked at his hands folded in his lap.

"Kakashi…you broke my tea cup."

It was the minutest of memories: Kakashi had arrived one night drunk in midwinter, and in the process of pouring hot tea, dropped the cup.

The jounin was silent for long moments.

"Wanna take a walk?" he looked up thoroughly disgruntled, his eyes shadowed by dark rings, his hair in wilder disarray than was to be expected, but his expression referenced its usual calm.

"Why not?"

Iruka learned well, and as a result, taught well. One of the chief lessons in his life with Kakashi had been to meet the man where he was in the moment: there was no _normal._

He handed Kakashi his flak jacket and stepped into his sandals by the door.

=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=00=0=0=0=0=0=0=00=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=

"Just doesn't feel like it's only been a day," Kakashi remarked, his hands folded in his pockets, shoulders sloping.

Iruka nodded.

The evening was clear and breezy, carrying the music of cicadas and conversation from one bustling restaurant to the next crowded bar. Night-flying birds sang in the newly budded trees, and Iruka could smell the aroma of any number of spices wafting from windows and doorways.

"Do you think you could eat something?"

"Maybe."

They wove through the crowds aimlessly. The cool air helped clear Kakashi's thoughts; Iruka quietly worried that the colors and sounds would overwhelm him.

In a low-key place off the main drag they found a table. Kakashi seemed disinterested in the menu and Iruka didn't push it; he ordered soup, and Kakashi said "same here."

Iruka had some difficulty providing appropriate conversation. _That was some excellent sex last night, pity the circumstances_ came to mind but never passed his lips; he was better at filtering himself than Kakashi, or cared more, at any rate.

"So it's mainly time?" he asked. Kakashi glanced at him as though he hadn't noticed he was there.

"Time?"

"That gets – that's confused."

"I thought so. But now, -"

"Imagine my luck!"

Iruka's wide eyes followed the shining red fingernails to the long white fingers, and then upward, to where pale arms framed an abundant expanse of bosom. Tsunade smiled and leaned over their table to snatch up the menu.

"Two boys to buy me drinks. I couldn't have planned it better if I'd had somebody track you two down, eh? Scoot over."

She settled in beside Iruka, edging him against the wall with her generous hips. He accommodated her meekly, hopeful for good news.

"First things first," she began, "the outlook is good. What? Am I being too blunt? Anyway, if you've made it this far, you'll likely recover fully."

A waitress appeared with their soup, and took Tsunade's order for a stiff drink. Kakashi listened intently, suddenly bereft of his meager appetite.

"It was a rare technique you met with, Kakashi," she went on, "you're lucky you pulled through it. It's certainly not typical. Go on and eat, you two, don't mind me. I'm drinking my dinner tonight."

Iruka lifted a careful spoonful of soup to his lips. Kakashi asked about Sasuke.

"He's fine," Tsunade declared, "but your main concern at the moment is your own health. You have to be aware of how _tsukuyomi _works. It's not that he altered your experience of time, space, matter – it's that he altered –"

The waitress appeared with Tsunade's drink, and she tipped her head back with a healthy gulp before continuing: "—it's that he altered your ability to _sense _time, space, and matter."

"I'd figured that out," Kakashi concurred.

"Like any other wound, it'll heal, given enough time. But when you're not concentrating – if your chakra is low, or you're sleeping, or injured – it'll be harder to tell up from down for a while."

Kakashi fixed her with a contemplative stare.

"So it's not all illusion," he concluded. She nodded.

"That's right. Some of what you experienced during the attack was illusion, and you'll likely have memories of those illusions that present themselves as memories of reality. And I wouldn't be surprised if it shook some things loose. _Tsukuyomi _takes advantage of the victim's fears, regrets…things they may have forgotten."

She finished her drink in a final swallow, settling the cup back on the table firmly.

"Is there a timeframe?" Iruka asked.

Tsunade softened somewhat, moved by his concern.

"I don't know of one," she admitted, "but you're out and about and making some kind of sense, and that's a good sign."

Her broad grin was contagious, and despite his worry Iruka found himself feeling encouraged. Tsunade ran her finger around the rim of her empty cup once before slapping down a few bills and standing.

"Well, I'm off. You know where I am if you need me."

"Later," Kakashi muttered.

Iruka watched her set off into the street, where Shizune awaited. He shook his head with an incredulous smile.

"Some woman, huh?"

Kakashi peered down at his untouched soup and took dim register of his hunger. Tsunade's research had provided little in the way of tools for navigation, and he knew nothing more of what was _true _and what was _false _than he did before.

But he had begun to sense that there was some reality in the recurrent visions, recalled or implanted, and he knew that he would be unable to resume life as usual without settling the matter.

Iruka paid for their food before he stirred from his thoughts.

"I'll pick it up next time," he promised, standing to join the chuunin.

"You won't be able to pick up your feet if you don't start eating," Iruka chided gently.

They emerged into the slow-flowing foot traffic of the street. Kakashi glanced sidelong at Iruka.

"You staying the night?"

"Suppose I could," Iruka shrugged, mirroring Kakashi's casual demeanor with a half-smile.

"Hope nobody gets the idea that I'm crazy, considering all this," the jounin mused, though the possibility had a certain appeal.

_If they're going to think so, I might as well make the best of it. _

* * *

**Thanks for reading****; please review! More will be up soon!**_  
_


End file.
